It's Not a God-Damned Date!
by tickletalia
Summary: Lovino is new in town, which is the only reason Antonio is showing him around. Obviously Feliciano. And stop smirking, it doesn't loo kright on you! Spamano and tickle fic.


"I can't believe you're going on a date, Lovi! And with An—" Feliciano attempted to say, only to be cut off.

"It's not a fucking date!" Lovino interrupted. "And don't call me Lovi," he added as an afterthought.

"But Lovino!" he pouted, "You've been crushing on him for so long, and—"

"I have not, you bastard! I've only know him for a few weeks anyway. And if you're just going to annoy me you may as well just leave," Lovino said bitterly, glaring at his brother. Feliciano deflated.

". . . You're the one who asked me to come over," he reminded him softly, sniffling and turning to leave. And despite himself, Lovino knew that _he_ was the cause of it, and just as he got to the door he blurted out,

"Wait!" Feliciano stared at him, not saying a word. Lovino sighed. "You can stay," he said, forcing the last word out. Immediately Feliciano's smile was back and bigger than ever.

"I knew you didn't actually want me to leave!" he shouted happily, and Lovino didn't bother correcting him, for two reasons. One—he had already nearly made him cry and didn't want that nearly to disappear, and two—he knew it wouldn't do anything.

"Yeah, yeah, just hurry up. Antonio should be here soon to take me out to eat as a _friend_ because we're new here and his friends are coming along too," Lovino said, stressing how not-a-date this was.

"Maybe," Feliciano said with a knowing smile that made Lovino felt like he missed something—and in turn made him angry, "but I'm new too and he didn't invite me."

Lovino opened his mouth than closed it, not knowing what to say. Just when he was sure Feliciano was going to start bragging and talking about how cute their children would be (because logic was a foreign concept to the happy Italian) he started talking about a kitten he had seen following some guy named Herk-something.

'Cause fuck logic.

. . . o0o . . .

A few minutes later Antonio was at his door, smiling the same smile that he had first seen on his face. Lovino's eyes narrowed, stepping out onto the porch and ignoring his brother's call of, "Have a good date!"

"I thought you said you were brining your friends?" he said, glaring at the already closed door. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"I thought you would say no if I said it was just me," the Spaniard said, only for Lovino to turn his glare to him.

"You—you tricked me!" he said, barely keeping himself from yelling. He gave Antonio his frostiest glare and opened his mouth to give him a piece if his mind—

Only for said man to put his hand over his mouth.

"Ithoughthavingtoomany—Oww! Why'd you bite me?"

"Maybe because you put your stupid hand in my mouth? Now explain. Slower," he added hastily. "I couldn't even understand you before."

"I thought that if too many people were here you would freak out," Antonio explained, his eyes looking a twinge annoyed.

"So you lied," Lovino stated bluntly.

" . . . Sorry?"

"Hmmph," Lovino said, turning to the side.

"Ahh, come on, I said I was sorry," Antonio whined, nudging the smaller Italian, who hurriedly stepped away from him.

"Don't touch me bastard," he said. Antonio's shoulders slumped.

". . . If you want me to leave, you can just say it. I'd rather just be told I'm not wanted than bother someone who doesn't want me there," Antonio said, his smile gone for the first time since Lovino had seen him.

A few months ago Lovino would have shouted at him for trying to guilt him into it, but a few months ago his grandfather was still alive to pester him about being nicer and maybe gaining a few friends. But still . . .

"I don't—"

_"__I-I promise I'll finally make some friends," Lovino whispered over the coffin of his late grandpa. "I promise. Even if it kills me."_

"I don't want to go out anymore," he said. Antonio nodded and turned to leave.

"Oi bastard! I wasn't done," Lovino shouted, making the other man blink. He blushed and shuffled awkwardly, but eventually managed to force out, "Doya wanna come in?"

". . . Huh?"

"I'm not saying it again bastard."

. . . o0o . . .

So here they were, an hour later, sitting on the couch and staring at each other silently. Feliciano had left soon after realizing that Antonio was staying, and Lovino decided to get his eyes checked, because obviously something was wrong with them because he had seen—had thought he'd seen—Feliciano wink at him before he left. And not innocently (that would have been fine) but rather as if they were going to have sex while he was gone.

His eyes almost blew out of his head.

It didn't help that any attempts at conversation (which Antonio tried at more than him, if he was being honest) ended in disaster.

"So, did you have any friends before you came here?"

"No," Lovino said bluntly. As Antonio nodded and turned to the TV Lovino wondered how his brother made it all seem so easy. Talking, making friends, painting—everything! It all came so easy to him. It was his fault he didn't like talking and small talk was stupid.

I mean, really, he thought, what was the point of talking about things you didn't care about just so it wasn't so silent?

As the silence dragged on and even Antonio seemed to have run out of things to say he got his answer. People talked so it wouldn't be so mother-fucking awkward.

Lovino shifted as he tried to get comfortable on the couch. Usually he would have just laid down, but he had guests over and he didn't want to seem completely rude. Besides, Antonio was already sitting on the other side of the couch and he wasn't about to put his feet on someone's lap. Especially someone he barely knew. So instead he put his arm on the armrest, toke it down, put his feet on the coffee table, realized that wasn't much better than putting his feet on someone's lap, put his feet back down, shifted, looked over, realized he was being watched, and blushed.

"H-hey! What's with the whole staring thing? It's really creepy!" he shouted. Antonio blinked.

"Huh? Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to creep you, it was just sort of cute how you kept shifting around." He smiled encouragingly. "It's okay to be scared, you know. About starting a new school and moving somewhere new I mean."

Lovino sputtered, and it was lucky he wasn't drinking anything because he would've had a dirty carpet on top of everything else.

He wasn't scared about starting a new life. Nervous, maybe, but he would never admit it. Apprehensive, wary, out of place—any of those he was okay with admitting to himself, albeit silently. But he was not, in any way shape or form scared. And he said so.

"I'm not scared! Or cute, for that matter. I mean, why would I be? M—"

"Why would you be cute or why would you be scared?" Antonio asked. "Because it kinda makes a huge difference."

"It makes no difference!" Lovino spit out quickly, before going on, "And either one. I didn't like my old life, so why should I care about leaving it, damnit?"

"Lovino," Antonio said slowly. "I never said anything about leaving your old life behind. I was talking about starting a new life."

"I . . . It doesn't matter! It's not true!"

"Lovino . . ." Antonio trailed off.

"I'm not scared!"

"Fine, you're not scared."

"Would you just accept that—Wait, what?" Lovino asked, his furious expression from a few seconds ago fading away.

"You're not scared. But I still haven't heard you laugh."

". . . What?" Lovino asked. Was this how normal people talked?

"I haven't seen you laugh or smile since I've gotten here," Antonio clarified.

". . . And? No offense, but I'm not a happy-go-lucky person and I never will be."

"You don't have to be happy-go-lucky to smile," Antonio said with a glint in his eye. He scouted closer to the Italian. "And I happen to remember you jumping when I poked you."

"Yeah," Lovino said, scouting farther away from the increasingly creepy Spaniard and hoping against hope this wasn't what he thought it was—and if it was, he could talk the other out of it. "I don't like people touching me. Especially people _I don't know_." He said, stressing the second part and hoping Antonio could take a fuckin g hint.

He should have known his ears would be as oblivious as the rest of him.

"And is there a reason for that?" Antonio asked, reaching over and simply laying his hand on the other's side.

Lovino yelped and jerked away.

Antonio blinked as the other brunette jumped off the couch and started backing away. He had only put his hand down, the last thing he expected was such a strong reaction. Then he blinked again and grinned deviously.

This could be fun.

"Oh, Loviiii . . ." he yelled out playfully, dragging out his name. "Where are yooou?"

"Don't fucking—Damn it!" Lovino yelled from his place next to the kitchen door, which he had gotten to while Antonio blanked out.

"I'm gonna get you," he continued teasing, getting up and wiggling his finger in the other's direction. He heard a choked noise come from the Italian.

"Don't," Lovino wared, his lips twitching and hoping Antonio didn't notice.

He did.

"Don't what?" Antonio asked, smiling innocently.

"You fucking know what you—Gahh!" Lovino shouted as Antonio poked him.

"Something wrong?" Antonio asked.

"Yeah, I'm being cornered by a crazy person," Lovino said, backing away faster than before.

"I'm not crazy," Antonio said, pausing to pout. Not the best decision, as Lovino toke the chance and started running. After a second Antonio followed, shouting, "Hey, that's not fair!"

"Neither is fucking trying to tickle me bastard!"

"I just want to see you laugh!"

"Ha—mother-fucking—ha!"

"You real laugh!"

"Good-fricken-luck."

"Thanks!"

"I didn't actually—Fuck!"

By this time Lovino had somehow managed to become captured on the couch, Antonio looming over him threateningly. 'How—?' he thought before remembering the circular pattern the house was in. He must have made a full circle and ended up at the beginning.

But this time Antonio was nearly on top of him, and his eyes were shining mischievously.

_Fuck._

"It's not nice to cuss, you know," Antonio informed him happily, as if he wasn't looking at Lovino like a spider that had captured its prey.

"I don't give a fuck," Lovino managed to say, glancing at Antonio's hands nervously.

"You should," Antonio said, poking Lovino, who yelped out of the way.

"Get the fuck off of me," he tried to warn.

"But then you wouldn't be laughing!" Antonio said cheerfully.

"I'm not fucking laughing no—" Lovino froze as a glint entered Antonio's eyes. "Fuck! No—I didn't—Don't you fucking dare!"

Antonio ignored the brunette, wasting no time and digging into his sides, smiling as Lovino's laughter filled the room.

"Ack!" Lovino exclaimed. "Youhuh bahahastard!"

Antonio playfully frowned, reaching up to poke at his ribs before responding. "Didn't I just say that cussing wasn't nice?"

The only answer he got was a bunch of mangled cursing, so he shrugged and started to drag one finger slowly against the Italian's stomach, smirking as he sucked in his stomach.

"Let's make a deal," Antonio offered, going on when he looked up and realized Lovino had bitten his lips together to not laugh—and in this case, not speak. "Once you agree to at least attempt to cuss less, I'll stop tickling you."

"Fuck no!" Lovino yelled, even as a few giggles bled out before he could snap his mouth shut again.

"Alright," Antonio shrugged, starting to swirl another finger around his tummy, "but you know how to make this stop."

He started out tickling him slowly, barely even touching his skin. He kept the slow torturous pace until Lovino was literally twitching in anticipation, then slowly sped up. Taking his hands off the brunette's stomach, Antonio started squeezing and poking his sides, watching as Lovino giggled cutely, even if he was cussing through it.

He spider-walked his hands up to Lovino's armpits, more out of curiosity than anything else, but when the other man squeaked and yanked his arms down, Antonio made no move to stop. He scratched and poked relentlessly, laughing to himself as Lovino tried and failed to contain his laughter—and worse—his squeals. His hands stayed exactly where they were (not that it was hard: Lovino had practically super glued his arms to his sides) until Lovino's laughter reached a new level of frenzyness.

Antonio chuckled, ignoring Lovino's loud curses, and yanked his hands away from the other's pits, moving to lightly skittering his hands over the brunette's stomach. He glanced up, slightly surprised.

"Is it really that hard for you to not cuss?" he asked curiously.

"Fuck you," Lovino spat out quickly, having gone back to trying not to laugh.

"You say that a lot," Antonio mentioned casually, even as he brushed his hand across the place right above his hip—which he had learned exceedingly ticklish.

Lovino yelped, twitching away from Antonio's hands. He grabbed the Spaniard's wrists, not bothering to attempt move them, but glaring all the same.

"Don't," he said simply.

"Will you try not to cuss?" he asked.

Lovino stayed silent.

Antonio shrugged, raising his hands as if to tickle him again. "Okay, but—"

"Fine!" Lovino yelled. "Dammit, I'll try not to cuss."

Antonio laughed again, leaning down and kissing Lovino's cheek before he could think about it.

He should have figure Lovino would want revenge.


End file.
